Dance No More
by IllicitNothingness
Summary: How exactly did Red Harrington lose her leg and beloved dancing career?


**A/N:** Okay, so I just saw the Lone Ranger a few days ago and, well, to put it accurately- I fangirled so hard. Couldn't think about Harry Potter anymore because thoughts of what took place between these two kept invading. So, voila! This little baby was born! I stayed up so fucking late to write this. So, review it! And maybe someone will get cookies.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing unfortunately!

)O(

It started when she had moved to the small Texas town at eighteen- her parents' doing, of course. There was nothing in the dainty little town to attract her attention, so there was no telling what Red's mother and father had saw that so bribed them from picking up one summer and leaving her childhood England home to come _here_ of all places. Even now with the little friends she had made the first instant she arrived by carriage, Dan Reid and his kid brother John, there was nothing that would make her feel at home, or more or less, as though she belonged there. Dan and John were delightful, there was no doubt about it; including that dark haired girl that made it all too clear that she fancied the youngest of the two brothers. None of it mattered. What Red wanted to do the most was dance, and in Texas the only place she saw girls dance was the saloon in town...and it wasn't just dancing these women in the bars did. But anyone who knew Red Harrington well enough knew she would not lower her standards and dance for drunkards like _that_. Not in a million years.

After a year of staying in the small, desert town nothing had changed. The Settlers and Comanches had signed a treaty and vowed to remain on their own territory, but rage was wallowing in the men on either side, and Red was all but waiting to gather enough money to leave everything behind, forgetting it all and pursue her dream of dancing. Ballet, to be precise. How she loved the way the elegant dancers twirled on the toes, and with such expertise. Until one day when she walked through the saloon doors, and the familiar faces all greeted her with such kindness and warmth- though their wandering gazes at her figure didn't go amiss- did Barry, the bartender, gave her the chance of a lifetime.

"Red, darlin', you know that theater just a little down the way from town? Word around Colby is that someone is interviewing and hiring young gals like yourself to go to San Francisco and dance professionally. San Francisco, mind you! And trust me, sweet cheeks, we all know you could dazzle just about anyone with your dancin'."

It was just about time someone or something came along to finally realize her talents on a stage, and Red all but rushed to inform her mother and prepare for her small, but exciting performance.

When the day came to perform, she primped to perfection and welcomed all the approving glances and wolf-whistles from the men as she passed the saloon. Inside the theater there was a small, but generous amount of on-watchers in the audience and she couldn't help but to grin happily when she spotted Dan among them.

"Harrington, Eleanor!" The woman who Red suggested to be the judge called, surprised that her birth-given name was spoken. Taking a deep breath, Red calmed and took one last look into the audience before making her way on-stage and announcing her presence to the stern-looking woman Judge. The woman nodded, not looking up as she scribbled onto a document before finally raising her gaze and giving Red the signal go on, and she danced as though it were her last, gaining a deafening roar of applause. Whether the woman Judge enjoyed her performance or not, she did not show it. Instead, with a jerk of her head, beckoned the nineteen year old dancer to take her leave. She was devastated. Not a single word from the Judge, unless you count her snobby assistant approaching her and shoving a small piece of parchment indicating that they would contact her soon with news of her performance, and she struggled not to cry. Not here in a theater full of on-lookers.

"That was mighty good dancin', ma'am," came a voice that Red did not recognize. As she quickly threw on her shawl over her dress, she turned to face whomever had acknowledged her. It was no one she knew personally, but she had seen this handsome man ride into town with his possy only a week ago.

"Why, thank you, love. I try my best," she replied, attempting to not sound naive and innocent in front of him. She brushed her chili-pepper red hair from her eyes and offered a small smile. He took it as an opportunity to continue.

"Forgive me, darlin'," he took his hat off and took her hand, placing a kiss atop it. Red swooned. "The name's Cavendish. Butch Cavendish."

"Red Harrington," she introduced herself with a blush. Butch didn't miss it and he grinned, still holding firmly onto her hand. Not that she minded. This man had an astounding effect, one that could only have all the women at his feet. After a few blissful moments, he dropped her hand and it fell to her side.

"Well, Miss Harrington, it was a pleasure to watch you dance." Butch gave her charming grin before turning on his heel to head through the theater doors towards town. Inside, Red's heart was racing, whether from excitement or infatuation either was fine for her as she gathered her belongings in her arms for the journey home, the thought of Butch Cavendish lingering in her mind. When she arrived home, it was no different save for the fact she felt as though someone appreciated her talents, and immediately made a mental note to find him at the saloon, no doubt where he currently resided for the meantime.

"How was it, Red, sweetheart?" Her mother asked when she had entered the family's small house, her things still in hand and her mind far from reality.

"Hmm?"

"How was it?"

"Oh, just fine, mother. Just _fine_."

)O(

A month later, Butch Cavendish had the young red head wrapped around his finger _and other things_. He had made his way into her gorgeous little heart as she had his. Almost. It was no secret among the other men that he was what they called a _player_. He played with the women he found to his liking and broke their hearts, leaving them shattered and broken and soon leaving with something of theirs they apparently took from him. "He takes whatever you took from him first," was the gossip around town. "He's an abomination before God."Red would not hear a word of it. She would not allow anyone say a foul word about her beloved Butch Cavendish. No, he was her everything she convinced herself, and his presence and soft whispers into her ear at night only made her believe it more.

"You were born to dance, baby, and I was born to watch you." He whispered to her one night when he lay atop her in the rented room on the second floor of the saloon, his words causing Red to arch and moan beneath him.

"Oh- _my love_," was all she managed to get out before he guided himself into her wet core and held her down with his weight, his hips bucking to meet hers with a force that had Red crying out for more.

"I'll take you away from this piece of shit town, darlin', with all the silver you could want. To a place where you can dance for me, and _only_ for me." Butch stopped abruptly, flipping them both over so she sat astride him. Red's face flushed, moaning when she felt his hands firmly on her hips. "Dance for me, Red, baby."

Red needed no further encouragement: she rocked her hips deliciously against his, Butch emitting a grunt every so often. This was how he preferred it, his Red _dancing_ atop him so steamily. She was his, there was no questioning it. And when that one particular gentleman in the pub decided to so drunkily grab at Red's skirts, in one quick motion Butch would throw him outside and finish him off in his own special way, leaving the drunkard to go missing and never to be found again. Red was _his_ property and he wouldn't take lightly to another man giving off suggestive glances in her direction, least of all having her doing so vice versa.

"_Mine_," Butch growled a little too possesively, but Red didn't take notice. She was much too caught up in picking up her pace on top of him, soon her wet, sultry walls contracting around his thick shaft and bringing the both of them to a delicious climax, leaving either breathless.

)O(

When Red first gets caught up in a drunken state of crashing her lips against the lips of Dan Reid, and her corset and bloomers come off of her with such familiarity and ease, did she not stop to think about what she was doing and how it would affect her. She all but took the liberty to straddle the man's hips, feeling his hard length against her thigh. A small voice in the back of her mind seemed to scream out, but her drunken mind slapped it silent to allow her to dance on top of this man as she had for her beloved Butch. And when the door threw open, and a raged Butch Cavendish stood in angered astonishment at his Red riding Dan Reid to a breaking point of not so silent mewls and moans did Red's heart sink and fear filled her very being. Butch reached forward and buried his hand in the lovely red hair, pulling Red very painfully from her place on the naked man and dragged her outside in her knickers despite the many looks he recieved from the townspeople, and into the alleyway.

"How dare you dance for him, _whore_." Butch spat, grinning maliciously at the vacant fear that spread across the red haired woman's face all too clearly.

"Please, baby, it was nothing! It was nothing! Please, darlin', I love you," Red pleaded, her heart quickening once she spotted his hand dive into his pocket only to pull out a long, thin wire and wrapped it around her right thigh despite her furious struggle to release herself from his grasp.

"Oh, I love you too, Red, baby...but 'sorry' ain't gonna cut it. Speaking of 'cut.'" He brought the wire down into her flawless skin, piercing it slightly and letting the blood flow from her leg. Red screamed, and Butch only brought the wire further down into her leg, chunks of her skin falling from it and onto the dirt below them. The woman beneath thrashed in agonizing pain, attempting to once again shift and leave, but the sinister man above was baring down on her, holding the bloodied wire until he had finally severed it from the rest of her. Red's eyes began to close from the loss of blood, just before she caught one last glimpse of Butch Cavendish bring her decapitated leg to his mouth and sink his teeth into it.

)O(

"Miss Harrington." A wealthy-looking man called over the loud cheering and drunken laughter of the theater, removing his hat from the top of his head and nodding to the brothel madame.

Red looked up from her booklet of customers. "How much are you willing to pay? My girls don't come cheap," she said blankly, a small devilish grin on her face as her dress shifted with her and she propped up her leg, now made of ivory with a hidden weapon, on the table beside her. The man seemed to go hot under his collar as he eyed her lovely leg.

"Well, now that you mention it- I'll be willing to pay however much it takes to have a go with you- _dancing_- shall I say, above me with that gorgeous leg of yours."

Red's grin widened and she lowered her leg to stand, the music on the first floor travelling up to the balcony where the two stood. "Very well, darlin'. Follow me," she muttered before leading him into her private rooms behind her.


End file.
